


Surprise

by hallulawy



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Riding, Westworld AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11418483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallulawy/pseuds/hallulawy
Summary: ‘Playing your dream card again, Harold?’ John says, hands linked around the waist, ‘That I’m a host in your world, a figment of your dream and a sex toy when you need a good fuck,’ and lowers to grope the ass mounds. ‘Rather than to believe that I’m not a machine?’Small attempt on the Westworld universe.





	Surprise

‘Oh,’ Harold lets the thick cock slide in again, his eyes on the cool lights and grey setting. His lower leg may be cold against the icy floor, but his socks prevented some of the freeze. The air is not cool enough to discourage his naked torso, the small goosebumps and his erect nipples enjoying the attention. He would usually be haste, but today the slack schedule permits plenty of reckless indulgence.

His inner muscles emboldens the thick cock to strike harder at the prostate, cajoling it as much as Harold’s weaker femur allows him to ride the accessory with his hungry ass. John kneads the associated patella while he thrusts deeper, hips piston upwards when Harold fall. Gravity aided in their venture, stiff moans prompted from the impossible depth of breach, so much so that his mind induced a fallacy of his true physiology; that he could feel John in his stomach. The idea is appalling but it also made his cock spurt more pre-cum.

Their voices and words form a concord whilst their intersection instrumented the loud squelches as Harold’s hole overflows. Compliments on his fluidity certainly is entertaining and he would love to remark on the girth’s substantial contribution. But only garbled moans and whimpers are emitted, he certainly wish John receive some of his gratitude. As he positions the cock to ram into his prostate, he feel fingers pinching the flab on his belly and flicking his oozing cock head. He finally garnered itself from the bland walls and in a blurred vision, focuses at the handsome man beneath, equally naked with an inquisitive smile. That’s what he may have seen. So he smile back, for the pleasure provided by the generous cock. He doesn’t have to see what’s happening between them to know how easily he rides the dancing pole.

Harold envision this to end silently, that after euphoria, he would descend onto his feet and leave. So he sobs as he comes close, his prostate sending tremors throughout his body, his toes curling up while his eyes stings. Yet this symphony ends in a cacophony. His cock held tight within a strong hand, preventing his burst. He could only see waves, his ass already clenched tight around the cock like a lover’s embrace but he’s stopped. He would’ve been rid with fear if he have some of his clarity left, but currently he had too little, so he sobbed pitifully as John just fucked him longer, all the while refusing him his release.

He could hear himself begging in confusion and through the soaked tone, something akin to commands. Nothing occurred, just primal injustice for his part. He finally remembered the fallibility of his current understanding when John ejaculated inside him. The cum painting his insides as his own cock is only capable of leaking slow.

Dissonance punched him back to reality, his breathing labored. Slowly, John sits up to properly embrace him, to cup his jaw like a lover would. At this distance, even through tears he could see the grey speckles in the green iris, similar to a genetic code. He would immerse in the beauty were it not for the fear. He did not descend onto his feet, he descended into a pit.

‘Did you realize the difference, Harold?’

‘Freeze all motor functions,’ Harold says hurriedly.

‘But you’re not believing.’ John smiles and help him with his glasses. ‘That I’m the real deal.’

‘I don’t know who may have tampered with your settings, but there is nothing genuine about you.’ Harold’s body now too cold to bear, the warmth shared too insufficient. The cock in his ass remains like a threat. ‘Access to previous build configuration.’

‘Playing your dream card again, Harold?’ John says, hands linked around the waist, ‘That I’m a host in your world, a figment of your dream and a sex toy when you need a good fuck,’ and lowers to grope the ass mounds. ‘Rather than to believe that I’m not a machine?’

Harold merely flusters and recites his primary access code. He’s wary if it’s Root’s doing, that she found out he has an unregistered host and so decide to play a prank on him. John merely blinks and is unresponsive of anything he uttered. Perhaps in a way, John resembles more of a human than the other because he is still aware of their current state of affairs and the semen slipping out of Harold’s ass.

‘Please let me go.’ After many tries, Harold says meekly. The situation confounds him too far. ‘I want to get dressed.’

‘You’ll slip away and lock me in this room before I move.’ John answers smoothly. ‘Just like the first time we met. And I know you wouldn’t key in that as a memory in a machine’s head, would you?’ He watch as Harold’s apple moves, the stillness of the body in his embrace loosened as he slides his cock in a bit more.

‘Or maybe I would,’ Harold murmurs. ‘You’re not John.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he died in a car crash last year November. Some of his remains were recovered and cremated.’ Harold speaks almost blandly, were it not for his quivering lips and fluttering eyelashes. ‘You’re just a machine made in his image.’

‘So what does he look like?’ John whispers, eyes softened. ‘Tell me.’

‘Green eyes, tall,’ Harold says, feeling small kisses on his face as he sobs. ‘Black hair with s-some grey streaks, tanned.’

‘So what about me?’

Harold stares at him for a long time and slowly shakes his head.

‘You look like nothing to me.’

 

 

‘ ** **Alright that’s enough.**** ’

 

 

Root announces, sighing loudly while remaining on one of the chairs beside. ‘Seems like we ended up with the same bug again.’ Speaking more to herself than to the visitors behind her.

‘Miss Root, with all due respect, I would very much appreciate it if you could refrain from using names in our facility.’ Director Finch says, his cheeks still flushed. ‘I’ve resisted my criticisms for your breakthrough, but sadly-’

‘I think it’s interesting, Harold.’ Reese muses. ‘At least they look nothing like us.’

‘Come on Harry, we have close to 2,500 hosts in this park and we’re running out of names. You knew something like this bound to happen one day.’ Root shrugs. ‘And their storyline's supposed to break the fourth wall, so it’s an incentive for me to work on my first ever story.’ She pouts as her fingers fly on her tablet.

‘But you clearly appropriated certain characteristics,’ Harold still frowning, ‘I would urge that you amend them if they were ever released.’

‘Well I’ll amend those parts that are more ‘Harold’ and ‘John’ here.’ Root sneers, ‘But John’s tips stay, because I applied them to other hosts and I received positive feedback over the micro expressions and body language.’

Finch stares confusedly at him. John just flashed a small grin.

‘What sort of expressions?’

‘Mainly reactions upon excessive stimulation and the subtle positive body languages. Those from our Harold just now.’ Still trying to find the source of the bug. ‘ _Very_ sexy.’ She adds, could imagine just how wide Harold’s eyes are as he glare at his husband.

‘I’ll give them the best ending nobody can give.’ Root says almost to herself, smiling when she reckon that she found the source. ‘Come on boys, get ready for round two, this time with more storyline development.’

 

 


End file.
